


On Vodka and Other Things

by SecretNerdPrincess



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: garcy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 13:33:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15171785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecretNerdPrincess/pseuds/SecretNerdPrincess
Summary: What happened the night Lucy spent in Flynn's room?





	On Vodka and Other Things

**Author's Note:**

> Pure fluff with a side of angst. A gift for the #Garcy community simply for being so awesome.

Flynn almost missed the tentative knock on the door, lost in his own thoughts of Lucy and the journal. Ever since Sao Paulo, he wanted to know her better. In his alcohol fueled grief, she’d appeared as an avenging angel come to give him purpose, saving his life. He’d reacted badly when he saw her again at the Hindenburg. After living with the journal version of her for so long, to find her working against him felt like a betrayal. But seeing the fierce woman standing in front of the blazing wreckage reminded him that they had a future. Together.

Would he ever get to tell her? That without her, his might’ve lost himself forever; lost the man Lorena and Iris loved. What if he led you to me? A simple question that shot straight to the heart buried beneath vengeance. He wanted so desperately to know the Lucy who traveled from the future to lead him into the fray. Who promised him she’d stand by his side. Fighting Rittenhouse together.

The light knock brought him from his reverie. Opening the door, he found her, an affected flirtation in her stance, loneliness in her eyes. A bottle of vodka as an offering, a surrender of her secret. Wordlessly, he let her in. What else could he do?

“I figured since you already know…” she let her words wander off, unsure now that she stood in his private space. “It’s better than drinking alone,” she quipped, quoting Billy Joel.

Flynn smiled and grabbed two blue tin cups. “Make yourself comfortable.” He watched as she plopped herself down on his bed, wiggling the bottle in her hand, indicating he should extend the cups. “If you insist.”

“I do.” She poured a generous amount of vodka into each and recapped the bottle. Taking the proffered drink from him, she tapped her mug to his. “Cheers.”

They sipped in silence as Flynn waited for her to begin, wanting to know what brought her to his door.

“What is it about you?” She leaned back, sprawling her legs out in front of her, and studied him: calm, detached, unflustered by her presence. “I can't figure it out.”

“My winning personality?” He brought the vodka to his lips, looking at her over the rim. “My overwhelming good looks?” He wanted her to feel at ease.

Laughing, “No, I’m fairly certain it’s not your personality.” He tried to hide how her words pierced him.

“Maybe it’s the fact that having given me your journal in the future, you’ve got nothing to lose now? You assume I know all your secrets, so you don’t have to hide.” Lucy opened her mouth and nothing came out. He gave her a sad smile. “Stop worrying so much. It’s probably just that you don’t like me, so you feel comfortable with me seeing you when you’re hurting.”

“That’s what I mean!” Lucy stared at him, incredulous. “You see right through me. Every. Single. Time. How do you do you see through to the soft chewy center of me?”

Flynn floundered, trying in vain to figure out where she was going with this. “The journal? I dunno, I mean...It’s not hard to figure you don’t like me.”

“No, no, it’s not you or the journal.You’re fine and no matter what the journal revealed to you, it wouldn’t control how you react to me. It’s like you know what to say or do to make me feel better, but you never sugarcoat anything. You tell me, not necessarily what I want to hear, but what I need to hear. It’s a relief, honestly.”

It was his turn to be rendered speechless. What could he do? Say? He wanted her to know, god, he didn’t know. Something real about him. Something to make her understand him. He searched her expression. Lucy came to him tonight. She didn’t have to, but she chose him.

He wanted to return the favor. To prove himself worthy of this small step. “When I was a boy, I wanted to be an architect, wanted to build something that would last. Something that would stand as a testament to my existence so I wouldn’t be forgotten. I think I always felt the absence of Gabriel. The big brother I never knew.” He drank, remembering. “Instead, I became someone who could disappear. Unnoticed. Leaving behind nothing. Except Lorena and Iris. They became my legacy, my only imprint on the world. Then they died and I was cut adrift, floating from bar to bar. Barely existing. Until you walked into my life and gave me hope.”

The vodka burned her throat, but she welcomed it. Flynn fascinated her. Every time she thought she figured him out, he revealed another layer of himself.

“And you see how that turned out,” she joked, gesturing to the bunker around them, scared of the developing closeness between them. “We’re fugitives from the law trying to stop a secret cult determined to reshape history.”

“Beats mowing the lawn.” Smiling, he bent forward, elbows on his knees. “I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Lucy wanted to believe him. “Did you ever wonder if there are events that can’t be changed no matter what?”

“In the darker moments, yes. I’ve tried so hard to save my family, but every effort failed.” He drank down the vodka. She did the same and refilled both their cups. “But, when I see you, battling the universe for what’s right...it makes it a bit easier.” What he didn’t admit, is he wasn’t sure if it made it easier to believe he’d save his family, or if he meant, Lucy made it easier to handle the fact that he might never get them back.

“Amy made me so angry sometimes, you know?” She slid down to the floor, folding her legs underneath her. Flynn followed suit, his body a magnet for hers. “She was so carefree. I wanted her to settle down, get a job, have a family. But that wasn’t Amy. She flew too close to the sun.” She paused, afraid to continue. “I think I was envious of her. I wanted her freedom. To do what I wanted. When I wanted. I’m haunted by that weakness and I’m terrified I’ll never have the chance to fix it.”

“I saved my brother, but I still don’t know him. I don’t know what kind of relationship we grew up having, because that’s not the timeline I remember.” He wanted to reach out, to take her hand in his. Instead, he rested his arms on his bent knees and wrapped his fingers around the drink. “How do I get to know him when I supposed to already know him?”

Lucy tilted her cup in his direction. “We make quite the pair, don’t we?”

“I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.” He winked at her and clinked their metal cups, both doing another shot.

Setting down the now empty mug, Flynn turned around and flipped on the old am/fm radio he’d scrounged up from one of the supply closets. It didn’t get many stations, but he liked the sound of it anyway. _Wayward Son_ echoed out of the tinny speakers, filling the small room. While his back was turned, his cup was refilled and handed back to him. They both leaned back, enjoying the music, comfortable in the silence. Vodka, the great equalizer.

Lucy sipped while studying the man who sat across from her. After thinking him an adversary for so long, it was hard to switch gears to ally, maybe friend. But the quiet man, who sat with his eyes closed, trusting her presence in his space? This man made her want to confide in him the secrets he may or may not already know.

He opened one eye as if he could sense her gaze. Maybe he could, she wouldn’t put it past him. “Like what you see?” he teased.

“You are a handsome man, I won’t argue that fact.” _Wait, what had she just said?_ She scrambled to cover her admission.

He just laughed and tilted his head at the bottle. “Methinks the lady’s drunk too much.”

“Pssssh!” Lucy downed another shot and reached for the bottle, opting to forgo the cup altogether. “I haven’t even started!”

The song changed and Lucy jumped to her feet. “Styx! I freaking love this song!” She reached out a hand to Flynn, pulling him to his feet. “Amy and I used to air band to this song.”

“Air band?” Did that mean what he thought it meant?

“Yeah, anytime this song came on, we’d pretend to be the band. I’m the lead singer, so you play guitar. And you have to really give it your all. No holding back. Now, finish your shot and dance.”

Flynn, never one to argue with Lucy, obeyed. She used the bottle as a microphone and he made an awkward imitation of rock star, the easy smile on her face worth every second. They sang and danced and passed the vodka between them. When the song ended, they devolved into what could only be described as giggles. Maybe it was the fact that she shared with him a memory that involved her sister, but he didn’t care. If it made Lucy happy to laugh with him like schoolgirls, he’d go along with it. Without question.

When they caught their breath again, they were standing only inches from each other. The crooning of Elvis wrapped around them, the room cozier than it had been only minutes before.

_Wise men say only fools rush in..._

“Dance with me, Flynn.” Lucy gave him a questioning smile and his heart lurched in his chest. This was a very bad idea.

“I think maybe we should let you get some rest.” He resisted the urge to pull her into his arms. “Here, lemme take that.” His words slurred a bit, so he knew she had to be feeling the alcohol.

Her face fell. Hurt. “You don’t want to dance with me?” She looked at him, her vulnerability evident.

“It’s not that I don’t…” He swallowed, proceeding gently. “You’re drunk, Lucy.”

“If I give you the bottle, will you dance with me?” A fire rippled through her as she dared him. She wanted to feel his hands on her. “What are you afraid of?”

_Shall I stay? Would it be a sin?_

_I’m afraid you’re going to break my heart. I want you to remember the first time we dance together. The first time I wrap my arms around you._ So many things sprang to mind, but he said none of them. Instead, he took the bottle from her hand and she stepped forward and slipped her arm around his waist. Her smaller hand fit into his and when she laid her head on his chest, he forgot his protests.

_Like a river flows surely to the sea_

Flynn decided this might be the only intimacy they ever shared and knew it would have to be enough. He would carry the memory of this night with him into whatever the future held. Laying his head on top of hers, he curled their entwined hands into his chest.

She relaxed into him and they swayed in the tiny space. How could this man, who’d been her enemy for so long, make her feel so protected? She didn’t understand, but didn’t want to break the spell. Tracing her fingers down his spine, she let herself feel safe.

_Some things are meant to be_

She repeated her question from earlier, quiet, her words almost muffled by his sweater. “What is it about you?”

He had a choice, he could pretend he didn’t hear her. But this might be the only time he got to tell her and doubted she’d remember in the morning. “I still don’t know why you gave me your journal. All I know is that from the moment your future self entrusted me, I bound my fate to yours. It’s you and me until the end, no matter what that end brings.”

 _Take my hand, take my whole life too_  
_For I can't help falling in love with you_

Tilting her face up to rest her chin on Flynn’s chest, she asked the question he couldn’t answer. “What are we to each other?”

“I honestly don’t know.” Confusion reigned in him over it. He wanted his family back, but looking down at her endless brown eyes, he conceded, only to himself, that he was falling in love with her. “You never revealed anything beyond our mission to take down Rittenhouse. Sometimes…”

He trailed off and she realized she really wanted to know how he’d finish that sentence. They slowed to a stop. “Sometimes what, Garcia?”

She’d never called him Garcia before and he was blindsided. He’d tell her everything if only she called him by his given name again.

“Sometimes it felt like we might be something more to each other. But I couldn’t be sure.” He couldn’t tell her that he was scared to hope. The loss of Lorena and Iris still weighed heavy on his heart and he wouldn’t ask anything of Lucy before he could give everything to her. It wouldn’t be fair. She released his hand and stood on tip toe, running both her hands up to his neck. Tucking a stray hair behind her ear, he whispered, “But I really want to find out.”

Lucy wanted to kiss him, hypnotized by his lips, wondering how they would feel pressed against hers. Her breath caught in her chest as she slid up his body, wanting him to taste the questions she hid away. To discover the answers.

“Lucy…” He couldn’t let this happen, not this way. No matter how much he wanted it. Her fingers ran down the nape of his neck, shivers rushing over his body, heart pounding. They were, both of them, compromised. Once he kissed her, he’d be unable to deny her. No, even if they weren’t drunk, whatever grew between them was fragile. He’d never be able to forgive himself if he shattered any chance before it could begin.

“Not like this, Lucy.” He disentangled her hands and pressed them against his heart. He leaned down, brushing his lips across her forehead. “I want you to remember the first time I kiss you.”

He was right, knew it even in her drunken state, but she wanted more from him and that surprised her. She stepped back, needing distance. The room spun and Flynn steadied her.

“Come on, Luc, let’s put you to bed. I’ll sleep in the chair.” She stumbled over and sat down hard. He lifted her legs and got her to lay down, reaching to cover her with the extra blanket.

As he pulled away, she grabbed his hand. “Will you just hold me? I don’t want to sleep alone tonight.” Leaning down, he stroked her cheek, gathering his strength to refuse. “Please?”

Nodding, he turned away and grabbed a t-shirt. She watched as he removed his sweater, his corded back muscles tempting her fingers anew. His body twisted as he finished changing and she watched transfixed. When he finally faced her again, her desire shocked him. Her hand beckoned him and he prayed to whatever deity was listening that he could resist her.

Lucy felt his body shift the mattress and she adjusted so that she fit just into the crook of his arm. His fingers combing through her hair, soothing her racing pulse. Her fingers played across his chest and Flynn forgot how to breathe.

“Flynn…” her lids drooping in exhaustion.

“Yes?” He looked down at her smaller frame tucked so perfectly against him.

She offered him a sleepy smile. “You’re hot.”

He chuckled and she liked the feel of it vibrating against her. “You’re drunk, now go to sleep.”

“Nah, I think you’re hot when I’m not drunk, I just wouldn’t ever tell you. Like with the horses. That’s the first time I wanted to kiss you. ” She traced her fingers across his collarbone. “I think I like you.”

A tiny ball of light kindled itself inside him. “Now, let’s not rush to judgement.”

“Yeah,” a maudlin mood coming over her in her inebriated state. “I’m kinda silly when it comes to rushing into things.”

“Shhhhh, Lucy, stop. Never regret giving your heart a chance to love.” He held her a bit tighter wishing he could carry her pain.

A rogue tear fell, landing in the crook of his neck. “I don’t think I could ever trust him with my heart again. I know it’s not his fault that Jess came back, but…”

“It hurts, I know.” He rubbed his thumb over her shoulder, offering what little comfort he could. When her breathing evened out, and thinking her asleep, he confessed into the darkness. “He’s a fool. If you gifted me your heart, I’d never let you go.”

Flynn stayed there, Lucy sleeping in his arms, long into the night, a feeling of peace surrounding them. Only when he knew the bunker would be waking soon, did he slip from the room to make her coffee. She’d need it. He would have given anything to wake with her, to see her gaze find his before she shook off her dreams. But if she remembered anything, he didn’t want to startle her. Let her wake easily, without an unknown presence at her back.

Lucy woke to the smell of Flynn surrounding her, knowing full well she was alone in the tiny bed. His last words as she fell asleep taunted her, _I’d never let you go_. Pulling the blankets down, she faced him.

“Oh my god.” Embarrassment as the evening she’d spent with him flickered through her memory. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for, you were a gentle…” nonchalant, wondering how much she remembered, “and responsive lover.”

“I wasn’t that drunk.” She pretended ignorance. One day, she’d admit to him how much the evening spent with him meant to her, but not today. Not when her heart raced to think about their almost kiss, of him holding her, his arms protecting her from the nightmares that plagued her so often. He laughed, but she could’ve sworn she sensed regret.

“Nothing happened,” he lied, allowing her the simpler road. Even though he wanted her to remember. Maybe she’d ask him one day. Though he relished the fact that she felt like she could talk to him, through the rest of the stilted conversation, an emptiness took up residence in her retreat.

Confusion filled her as she slipped from his room, feeling the loss of their night together, the delicate friendship they’d formed in the quiet hours of the night. Her hand lingered on the door, tempted to step back inside and give into her desire to know what it would be like to kiss him. In the end, she walked away, afraid of her roiling emotions.

She couldn’t be falling be falling in love with Flynn. Could she?


End file.
